<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Still Hurting by turnitup</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819791">Still Hurting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitup/pseuds/turnitup'>turnitup</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seal Team Week 2021 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>SEAL Team (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:14:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,580</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28819791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitup/pseuds/turnitup</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Trigger | Trig·ger  [verb] | To cause (an event or situation) to happen or exist.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian Armstrong/Clay Spenser</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Seal Team Week 2021 [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Still Hurting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>-TRIGGER WARNING -<br/>This work contains references to rape and child abuse. If this is offensive or triggering for you, please do not continue reading.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Fuck. Please I want you inside me.” Brian returned to the open-mouthed kisses he was pressing against the side of Clay’s throat. The pulse under his lips quickened. A good sign. He sucked carefully at the skin just below his lover’s ear, exhaling almost harshly as he straddled his naked thighs. “God, I want to ride you.”</p><p>The fingers of his left hand stroked along Clay’s scruffy jawline and then down his neck, bobbing over his Adam’s apple when the blond man swallowed hard. Why had it taken him so long to realize this was a good idea? It seemed like a natural progression. The way Clay trembled beneath him seemed to be a very good indicator that this was a <em>very good idea</em>. Perfect. It would be perfect.</p><p>“Are you sure that’s--” Clay bit his lip when Brian’s teeth grazed over his collarbone. Brian touched his lips to the center of the other man’s chest, just above his heart as Clay took a deep breath. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I thought you preferred--”</p><p>“I prefer <em>you</em>,” Brian replied. They’d stashed the lube and a condom under one of the pillows so it wouldn’t be thrown off the bed or kicked away with the sheets. He retrieved them now, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to Clay’s jaw as he leaned forward. “It’ll feel amazing, I promise.”</p><p>Preparation was slow-going, as it had been several years since Brian had been penetrated by more than a solitary finger during a quick solo session. It was more than twenty minutes before his body was relaxed enough for him to crawl back on top of Clay and unroll the condom. The pair of them were tested and clean - thank you United States Navy - but this made for a simpler cleanup. More time for the cuddling Clay would never admit to needing and enjoying.</p><p>Brian tried to hide his sappy smile, briefly wondering how he’d gotten lucky enough to be here, able to think about the fact that in a little while, he’d be engaging in post-coital <em>cuddling</em> with his best friend.</p><p>He guided lube-slicked fingers to wrap around Clay’s length. His own hand joined a moment later, stroking in unison until their fingers slid up and down effortlessly. The look on Clay’s face -flushed and wide-eyed - made Brian yearn for his camera. It was rare you got an uninhibited glimpse behind the cocky facade; so close to the edge of losing control.</p><p>It took a few tries before they managed to figure out a proper angle, and when Clay finally slid home, Brian’s thighs were straining. He knew just how much his body could handle. The heated stretch was uncomfortable, yes, but as he adjusted to the sensation, he knew it would get better. And then there was the sheer knowledge of it - of Clay inside him, moving with him, filling him for the first time - which seemed to be enough to bring his wilting erection back to life.</p><p>“God, Sunshine” he gasped. He moved his hips only slightly, not yet ready to move much more than a tantalizing wiggle that held so much promise. The hands on his hips were gripping him hard, almost bruisingly so. Somehow, he didn’t care. Let Clay mark him. Wouldn’t be the first time.</p><p>“You’re perfect,” Brian whispered. “Absolutely perfect. <em>Fuck</em>.” He leaned back a bit. His palms momentarily supported his weight on Clay’s thighs for a bit of leverage so he could rearrange the position of his knees. He wanted to lean forward and kiss that slightly dazed expression on Clay’s face; wanted to taste the sweet victory of making the well trained sailor falter.</p><p>Clay shifted below his weight, his hips moving enough to make Brian’s eyes flutter. Brian was about to speak - he needed more time, he wasn’t ready for Clay to move much. His body had nearly acclimated to the slick stretch and sensation, but....</p><p>“Bri.” Clay’s voice was low, just on the inside of a warning. Brian wondered if it was too much; if it was possible for Clay to already be close to the finish line. He didn’t know how long it’d been since the other man had been on the giving end or, in fact, if he’d ever done it at all. “Bri, I need--” He cut himself off with a deep gasp for air that inflated his chest like a pale, flushing balloon. “Brian!”</p><p>“Just one sec, Clay,” Brian said, repositioning himself carefully. If Clay was that close, the slight movements could be the trigger that ended everything before it really began. “I promise, Sunshine, <em>anything</em>, just give me a moment.”</p><p>“Brian, I need you to--” Another breath. He seemed to be fighting with himself. Brian certainly appreciated the effort, but he didn’t understand how this reaction was so warranted quite so soon. “God, Bri, I’m sorry.” Clay’s hands slipped from their vise grip on his hips to clench in the sheets and Brian expected to feel the tell-tale pulsing inside, but there was nothing, just his boy, laying with his eyes squeezed shut, fingers flexing almost confusedly in the bedclothes.</p><p>“Sunshine--”</p><p>“Brian, I need--I need you to get off me,” Clay said suddenly.</p><p>Well, that certainly hadn’t been what he expected to hear.</p><p>Before he had time to question it, Clay was retreating while simultaneously pushing Brian away. The way their bodies forcibly disengaged was uncomfortable and startling, leaving Brian splayed to one side of the bed, bracing himself and trying not to crack his skull on sharp edge the bedside table. He didn’t get to ask Clay what was going on; his lover had disappeared into the en suite bathroom without a word, the door slammed shut and secured behind him.</p><p>Brian looked around the bedroom hazily. His arousal was subsiding, leaving a dull, slick ache in its void. He rested his head on the pillow he’d come to think of as his own and watched the closed bathroom door. On the other side, the water began to run, but Brian didn’t take even the slightest invitation from it. Instead, he closed his eyes. He’d ask Clay what the hell had happened once they’d both had a chance to calm down.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <hr/>
</div><p>Brian’s eyes opened slowly as his mind dragged his unwilling body back into consciousness. His fingers trailed over the cool, empty space next to him in the bed. Clay was already awake, then.</p><p>He stretched out for a moment before the night’s events came back to him. Their failed encounter hit him like a punch in the chest. Had Clay even come to bed?</p><p>He’d have to get out of bed and deal with it eventually. Didn’t mean he wanted to.</p><p>But then Brian realized that the shower was still running. His own body felt too sleep-slackened for his venture into dreamland to have been a short nap. They’d gotten home from training and into bed around midnight. Reaching for his phone on the bedside table, 3:27 glared back at him. </p><p>It’d been at least two and a half hours since Clay had gone into the bathroom. That couldn’t be right.</p><p>Brian climbed off the bed, wincing when his feet made contact with the cold wood of the floor. There wasn’t any sound from the other side of the door except the running water. He raised his hand and knocked shortly. When he received no answer, he shuffled on his feet and licked his lips before knocking louder.</p><p>He tried the door. </p><p>Locked.</p><p>Fantastic.</p><p>Fortunately, working as a Navy Seal combined with his unorthodox upbringing meant that Brian had become quite adept at lock-picking. After finding an old credit card and a knife, he was able to jostle the lock into submission.</p><p>“Sunshine?” Brian softly called as he poked his head into the room. He expected to see Clay relaxed beneath the spray. </p><p>He didn’t expect to see the fully-grown man curled into a ball in the corner of the stall, eyes blank, cheeks pale. </p><p>Brian cried out and slid the glass door to the side, momentarily getting rained on by an icy spray before he managed to turn it off. The space wasn’t made to hold two people who weren’t paying close attention to the way their bodies were angled and Brian was sure he’d have a bruise on his left hip in the morning, but his first priority was to get the trembling man to warmth.</p><p>His mind didn’t even register the cold water soaking his feet and knees as he knelt next to Clay. “Clay, can you hear me?” <em>Are you okay?</em> was the instinctual question, but it was useless at this point. And <em>what did I do wrong?</em> would come with an answer Brian didn’t think he wanted to know just yet. He settled for shedding his t-shirt and wrapping it around his lover. The thin material clung to pale, wet skin on contact. It wouldn’t do much good at all, but the effort made Brian feel like he wasn’t useless.</p><p>“Clay.” Brian’s voice was more direct now, but he wasn’t getting a single sign that Clay could hear a word he said. “Baby, please.” He swallowed as Clay’s teeth started to chatter audibly. He put his hands on the blondes shoulders and squeezed gently before rubbing up and down, hoping for some blood flow.</p><p>“Clay, I want to take you into the bedroom and get you warm. Is that okay? Sunshine?” Brian stared directly into the blank eyes. The vibrant blue that usually answered him with a hint of sass was gone; gray slate stared back and made Brian feel like he was talking to a wall. A shaking, catatonic wall.</p><p><em>Think Brian. </em>He chastised himself as he began to lift Clay from the floor. He was strong, but there was very little friction to help him and the Seal was essentially dead weight. <em>What brought this on? Well, obviously, the sex, but why the sex? We have sex four nights out of seven when our schedules line up, sometimes more! This isn’t a man being self-conscious about coming too early, about not pleasing me. He’s terrified. Why?</em></p><p>Brian realized belatedly that Clay was struggling as they got closer to the bed. He stopped a few feet away and just held Clay letting him breathe, grateful that the other man wasn’t drawing away from him. His eyes were closed as he drew deep breath after deep breath and his teeth chattered. Brian felt more determined to warm him up, but the living room was so much farther away and it was certainly the only other place that Clay might find comforting.</p><p>His eyes drifted up Clay’s face, taking in the taut line of his jaw, the thin set of his normally full lips as he tried to clamp them together with his chattering teeth. Those eyes were moving beneath their tightly-shut lids and Brian couldn’t help feeling that there was anger going on behind them, as if Clay were berating himself for his behaviour.</p><p>The sudden clarity of his realization covered Brian like ice water. <em>He’s terrified, but he’s alert enough to think he’s overreacting.</em> He could feel Clay’s  heart pounding under his fingertips. <em>He can’t calm down, but he’s actively trying. Trapped.</em></p><p>When you’ve eliminated the impossible... But, <em>PTSD. Why would he have PTSD from sex?</em></p><p>He managed to get Clay wrapped in a blanket on the couch and made sure he was sitting properly on his own before leaving him for a moment to get towels. “I’ll be back soon baby, I promise.”</p><p>Whether his words did any good or more harm, he didn’t know. He said them for himself; there was a guilt to leaving Clay behind in that state, even for a good reason. When he’d had nightmares, Clay had never left--not even after Brian had fallen back asleep.</p><p>
  <em>PTSD. Shock, mild catatonic state triggered by... sex? No. Penetrative sex, giving.</em>
</p><p>Brian hesitated at the cupboard as he pulled at a stack of towels. It was a long moment before he could take another breath. There were so few options. There was only one option, really, with a dozen variables, and he didn’t want to consider it. Didn’t want to take into account what he knew; what he didn’t.</p><p>Clay’s reactions. They’d been willing, hadn’t they?</p><p><em>Oh god. I didn’t give him a choice</em>, Brian thought. He sank down onto the bed as he passed through the bedroom. <em>Oh, fuck, I didn’t think twice about asking if it was what he wanted.</em></p><p>And Clay had immediately felt so dirty, so <em>vile </em>that he’d rushed off into a hail of frozen water.</p><p>
  <em>What kind of a monster am I, that I didn’t see? To do that to the man I love? </em>
</p><p>Brian covered his face with his hands. Now he was the one who felt grimy. </p><p><em>No,</em> he told himself sternly. <em>You can’t break down, too. You have to go out there and take care of him. He’s taken care of you.</em></p><p>Scrubbing roughly, Brian found his boxers on the floor by the bed. After pulling them on, he picked up the towels again and returned to the couch. Clay was still chattering, though there was a bit more color in his skin. His curls were still stuck to his forehead in blond swirls.</p><p>Rather than rubbing the water away from Clay, Brian began to cocoon the other man in all the towels and blankets he had on hand. By the time Clay began to look like himself again - still pale, but less of the sickly kind and more of the “my skin only has two shades: red and white” kind- Brian was about ready to stress himself into a frenzy. </p><p>They sat in a resoundingly absolute silence. He didn’t know how long it was before Clay’s sharp intake of breath startled him, sounding entirely like the man was coming back to life with all the air the room had to offer.</p><p><em>He can have it</em>, Brian thought. <em>He can have anything.</em></p><p>Clay blinked twice and his eyes scanned the room, taking in any changes and assessing any threats, before he finally turned his head and looked at Brian. His lips parted silently, no longer trembling but still seeming unable to form words. He looked very much like a fish out of water.</p><p>Brian moved closer to Clay on instinct, wanting to hold and comfort and reassure the man with the love he had so often been denied. </p><p>“Brian, I,” Clay stutters, “I--Bri, I’m so sor--”</p><p>“No.” The word was more forceful than Brian meant for it to be and he softened his tone before continuing, “No, Clay, you are not apologizing right now. Don’t ever apologize for this.”</p><p>Clay closed his eyes as if he hadn’t expected Brian to figure out what had happened. For a moment, thoughts flash in the back of his mind, making him wonder if he should have played dumb. But the pained look in the other man’s eyes when he opened them again--a deep and empty sort of hurt that show a sheer vulnerability--made Brian sure he had taken the right path.</p><p>“No one,” Clay said, fidgeting. “I’ve not--I’ve never--I couldn’t--” There was a level of frustration that Clay rarely reached, the one where he could tangle himself in the inability to formulate his thoughts and words. He was reaching that point and Brian, who had only seen it happen once before, didn’t know how to react.</p><p>Fortunately, Clay took a deep breath, paused, and started over. “I’ve never... told anyone.”</p><p>This didn’t surprise Brian. </p><p>“You don’t have to talk about it, Sunshine.” His hand hovered hesitantly before resting on Clay’s lower back above the blankets. “You can calm down and have a drink and talk about it when you’re ready. Or never. Whatever is best for <em>you</em>. Don’t feel like you owe me an explanation.”</p><p>Clay clenched his teeth, his entire body tensing with the movement. It was another moment of small circles being rubbed into his back before he relaxed marginally. “I was thirteen.”</p><p>Brian winced. He felt guilty about his flinch; Clay would’ve noted it, even with his eyes closed. <em>So much for being a receptive, supportive partner.</em></p><p>“She was one of the summer students who came to Liberia to work with the mission. Twenty-eight. Lived in town with my grandparents and I. She was French.” He may as well have been reciting a grocery list, but even through the lack of emotion, Brian fixated on what he imagined was the key word in the bunch.</p><p><em>She</em>. Immediately, his mind flew back to hours ago, when he’d climbed on top of Clay’s pliant body and announced his intentions only to be greeted with immediate apprehension. He’d written it off as performance anxiety. Now he knew better: It had been a trigger; one that even Clay couldn’t overcome and lock deep enough away.</p><p>The room was silent until a rustling of blankets and towels brought Brian out of his silent fuming. Clay was reaching for him. </p><p>“Stay,” he said quietly before adding a childshly broken, “Please.”</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere, Sunshine. Not now, not ever.” His fingers held Clay’s  wrist loosely before twining their fingers together. The angle was awkward, but the sentiment was there. Brian moved closer and he slipped his left arm further around Clay’s back. When they settled a moment later, they were sitting in the center of the couch, Clay’s left hand wrapped with Brian’s  right, Brian’s left arm settled along the curves and folds in the blankets to rest on Clay’s right hip. </p><p>“Even if I can’t-- I don’t think I could do it, Bri - I’ve -I’ve never wanted to and if you need that-”</p><p>“Sunshine, no, please,” Brian whispered, squeezing both of his hands and resting his head on Clay’s shoulder. “Clay, if you told me right now that you were completely put off sex for the rest of your life, I’d be fine. It doesn’t matter to me like you do.” It’d be a loss, he wouldn’t deny that under any circumstances. Sex with Clay was never short of extraordinary. He looked up into Clay’s eyes and found that they’d gotten most of the blue coloring back. His Sunshine was there now; the Sunshine he knew and loved.</p><p>“I don’t know that I’d take that drastic a route,” Clay said. The left corner of his mouth twitched, but Brian still felt like he was downplaying his emotions.</p><p>“I never want you to feel like you can’t tell me something.” Brian pulled his hand away and cupped Clay’s face in his hand, happy to feel the warming skin in his palm; satisfied with the way the younger man’s cheeks were regaining their color. “If we can’t communicate, we’d be shit partners babe. I need you to know that.”</p><p>Clay leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. “It’s not something I want to talk about.”</p><p>Something stabbed at the base of Brian’s  throat; a searing realization of exactly what it meant for Clay to be uncomfortable with a topic. Clay, who had no filter between his brain and his mouth, had managed to keep this secret for almost two decades. He had lived alone with it in the back of his mind; taking up valuable space for <em>fifteen </em><em>years.</em></p><p>Brian took a deep breath and fought the urge to get up and punch a wall. Now was not the time to defend Clay’s honour. “It’s not just this, Clay. If you hadn’t... if--” He stopped himself. He didn’t want to bring back the memories of hours past. “What if that hadn’t happened, Clay? What if we went through with it and started doing that regularly? How would I ever know you weren’t enjoying it if you just lay back and let it happen?” </p><p>“I -I’ll try, Brian, but I-“ He stopped and fiddled with his fingers. Brian just watched, giving him all the time he needed to process his thoughts. He looked up a moment later and grabbed Brian’s hand. “Can we go to bed?”</p><p>Brian nodded without question and helped Clay up and out of the fortress of linens that had been built around him. Most of them fell to the floor without a care from the pair of men. They made their way to the bedroom, hand tightly squeezed in hand, holding on for dear life.</p><p>Hesitantly climbing into bed, Clay turned onto his side and faced his lover before inclining his head in a vaguely awkward invitation. Brian didn’t need to be invited to the comfort zone twice. He was pulling the covers over himself before Clay had time to blink. It was only when Clay curled up against him and pressed his face into his neck that Brian remembered that his love was still naked.</p><p>“Is this okay?” he asked. He’d never assume again; he didn’t think he could handle seeing Clay like this twice and knowing he’d been the cause.</p><p>“Perfect,” Clay mumbled sleepily. His arm wrapped around Brian’s waist, mirroring him. “Absolutely perfect.”</p><p>“I love you,” Brian  whispered into the mess of moist blond curls at his lips.</p><p>There was no answer outside of a silent murmur of lips against his throat.</p><p>Brian knew they’d be a sweaty mess of limbs when they woke up; Clay was essentially a human space heater. It would be worth it though, for the even-breathing calm that settled over them just before sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Seal Team Week 2021 | Sunday: Childhood </p><p>Comments and kudos are always welcomed and appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>